But What Could I Do? Be Stupid

It's That Moon Again, Slung So Fat And Low In The Tropical Night, Calling Out Across A Curdled Sky And Into The Quivering Ears Of That Dear Old Voice In The Shadows, The Dark Passenger, Nestled Snug In The Backseat Of The Dodge K-car Of Dexter's Hypothetical Soul. That Rascal Moon, That Loudmouthed Leering Lucifer, Calling Down Across The Empty Sky To The Dark Hearts Of The Night Monsters Below, Calling Them Away To Their Joyful Playgrounds.

I Was Never More Alive Than When The Dark Passenger Was Driving.

I Really Am Guilty, Of Many Somethings, All Of Them Lethal And Very Enjoyable And Technically Not Quite Legal.

That's Why I Liked Him, I Think. Another Guy Pretending To Be Human, Just Like Me.

The Students We Saw Were All Bright, Attractive, And Polite, And The Teachers All Seemed To Be Smart And Dedicated, And I Began To Appreciate The Benefits Of A Private School Education. If Only I'd Had The Opportunity To Attend A Place Like This, Who Knows What I Might Have Become? Perhaps Instead Of A Mere Blood-spatter Analyst Who Slunk Away At Night To Kill Without Conscience, I Could Have Become A Doctor, Or A Physicist, Or Even A Senator Who Slunk Away At Night To Kill Without Conscience. It Was Terribly Sad To Think Of All My Wasted Potential.